


6 O'Clock

by accol



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Brad Colbert, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>New territory.  Nate’s a pro when it comes to letting Brad push him, stretch him, fuck him fast.  But for Brad, this is… fuck.  Brad grunts again.  He can’t help it.  Nerve endings light him up.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Or, how Brad learned to stop worrying and love his hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	6 O'Clock

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically gratuitous bottom!Brad learning with help from Nate how glorious it is to be a cockslut.

**1.**

 

Nate is red to mid-chest.  He’s got that look on his face.  Brad doesn’t even know what to call it.  All-business.  Predatory.  They’re four weeks into this, and Brad knows one thing:  It’s the look that better never be aimed at another living person.  

Nate’s eyes flick up to the cliff edge above them.  He grins with teeth and steps into Brad’s space.  “No one can see us.”

Saltwater is drying on Brad’s skin.  Evaporation should make goosebumps rise, and he shivers.  But it's not from exposure.  It’s from that look on Nate’s face, and from the intent behind it.

Nate's greatest secret, Brad is coming to learn, is that he's fucking _insatiable_.

Brad’s wetsuit is down to his knees.  Nate shoved it there as soon as they were safe from sightlines.  His dick hangs heavy, waiting for Nate’s hand, his mouth.  

“This is for now.”  Nate closes his long fingers around Brad’s dick and starts jerking him off.  “Be ready for more later.”  He drops lower, and Brad is so fucked.  Christ.

Everything on him is taut.  Brad’s thighs flex hard, his glutes push his cock forward.  The head of it smears across Nate’s cheek.  He bypasses it and sucks one of Brad’s balls into his mouth, hums around it.  

With his mouth on him, Brad almost loses his knees.  Pain aches sharp and quick against his back.  The cove’s rock wall is unforgiving.  He pushes into it anyway, to brace himself for what’s coming.  Nate’s crouched in the ocean water, hiding them against the cliff.  Brad’s board drifts at his fingertips, still tethered to his ankle.

Nate works him over like this is a race.  Tongue pressing against the underside of his dick.  Fist pumping.  Lips squeezing.  He slurps like Brad is the best fucking thing he’s eaten.  Brad knuckles against Nate’s cheek just to feel the suck, to feel his dick pushing against the inside of Nate’s mouth.  

Nate pauses, grins up at him.  There it is again:   _Intent_.  A wet fingertip slides back between Brad’s ass cheeks.  Just a brush.  

“God,” Brad grunts.  New territory.  Nate’s a pro when it comes to letting Brad push him, stretch him, fuck him fast.  But for Brad, this is… _fuck_.  Brad grunts again.  He can’t help it.  Nerve endings light him up.

“Yeah,” Nate encourages.  

Voices from the rim of the cliff reach them, a faint, indistinct buzz beneath the roar of blood in his ears.  Brad strains against the stretch of the neoprene to push his legs wider.  Nate wants access.  In times like this, Brad denies his LT nothing.

Nate’s mouth is warm and slick.  His chin and cheeks are sloppy with spit and saltwater.  Brad fucks in.  Deeper against his tongue, then back against… _holy fuck_.

He pushes into the wall, straining.

The pad of Nate’s finger presses rhythmically against Brad’s hole.  His other hand is beneath the water working himself in the same rhythm.  He’s grunting around a mouthful of Brad’s dick.  He’s close.  

“Shit,” Brad gasps.  He didn’t know it could be… he didn’t know he’d like his…

Brad flares hot and red in the late day shadows.  When he comes, his groans echo with the waves.

 

**2.**

“Advisable?”  

Nate’s fingers are pressing, releasing, pressing, releasing in the space between Brad’s balls and his hole.   _Taint_ is such a fucking ridiculous and horrible name.  

Nate spits.  His saliva slicks the way for more pressure.  Brad’s dick feels twice as long, rooting itself deep within him.  Nate pushes and slides over that patch of Brad’s skin.  A fingertip makes a foray to massage the rim of his ass.  He’s in a holding pattern.

“You can try.”  Brad is breathing shallow.  He squeezes hard at the base of his dick to fend off the waves of pleasure for a little longer.  Nate can do his little experiment, despite Brad's lingering skepticism.

Nate dives down with a grin, and the bed bounces.  He bellies out to get eyes on his target.  Brad shuts his own eyes tight as a virgin’s hole at junior prom.

His _is_ the virgin hole.

But Nate is gentle.  It’s fucking profane how gentle he is.  Kisses to Brad’s inner thighs.  Warm exhales under his balls as he works on that three square inches of skin.  

Brad knows how bodies work.  He’s had his nose buried behind Nate’s junk too.  He’s had most of his fingers in Nate’s hole.  He’s felt Nate’s asshole gape and grab at his tongue.  He knows the mechanics of this.  He just hasn’t been on the receiving end of more than the happy ending surfing adventure last Saturday.  

“I’m no pussy.”  Clearly.  Brad is convincing himself.  “I’m not going to break.”

“Copy that.”  Nate is holding back a laugh, Brad can hear it.  

Yesterday night, Brad worked Nate open with his mouth and fingers.  He had Nate begging, rocking onto his hand, biting his lip as he fucked himself onto Brad’s dick.  Brad made him come.  His clenching, contracting hole dragged Brad’s orgasm out of him too.  Afterward, Nate curled around him, his sweaty chest to Brad’s back.  They’ve been doing this for a while.

Finally, now, Brad is too curious and too fucking turned on to pull away.  Finally it is Nate down there.  That’s probably the deciding factor.

His lubed fingertip is pressing.  “Come on,” Nate breathes.  He strokes around Brad’s rim.  “Stroke yourself.”

Brad does, slow, pulling at the crown erratically.  Nate’s pressing, gentle, but fucking persistent.  Brad holds his breath.  There’s no way.  No way in hell anything more than the pad of Nate’s finger can… How the fuck does Nate relax to take a goddamn cock?  These are involuntary muscles.  There’s no fucking way.

Nate moves in steady circles.  The sound of him spitting makes heat bloom through Brad.  Nate’s circles tighten and press.  Low level electricity is flowing through Brad’s groin, sending flecks of pleasure to the opening of his cock.  He clenches, Nate’s finger retreats momentarily.  

He sucks Brad’s dick.  Two bobs, just making Brad wet to ease the way for Brad’s hand.  

“Keep going,” Brad whispers.

There’s a finger on the pucker of his asshole.  This is not something he’d contemplated before Nate came into his life.  He relaxes and the pad of Nate’s finger presses inside, then out again.  His thumb is massaging behind Brad’s balls.  

Brad yanks his knees up toward his chest.  “How?” Brad gasps, meaning _how had he gotten to this juncture?_ , or maybe _how the fuck did he manage to land Nate Fick?_

Nate’s fingertip enters him with a slick pop.  It feels seventy five klicks deep.  Brad groans and tugs at himself faster.

“First knuckle,” Nate reports.  

Brad opens his eyes and looks down between his legs.  Apparently there is a fucking way.  No shit.  His LT always figures out a way.  

Nate barely moves, and Brad whites out from the pleasure of it.  He tastes his own jizz splattered on his lip.

 

**3.**

 

Three beers and Brad is riding a pleasant buzz.  Nate’s knee is pressed hard against his under the table.  Twenty three hours ago, Nate was riding him.  Also very pleasant.  

Brad grins at the memory.  If someone accused him of being smug, he'd admit to it with pride.  He catches Nate’s gaze.  Nate’s got the neck of his beer between thumb and index finger.  He raises it, drains it.  No need to say anything.  With an infinitesimal nod, he follows Brad out the door.  

In the stairwell, Brad kisses his intentions into Nate’s mouth with sufficient tongue to make his point understood: They both need orgasms pronto.  

Message received.  Nate redoubles Brad's enthusiasm; his hand shoves down past Brad’s belt.

“Fuck,” Brad gasps.  His hips shove forward of their own volition.  He pulls back and stares at Nate.  "You don't waste time."  Nate’s like a puzzle.  Deceptively easy at first glance, but a true motherfucking challenge to solve once you dive in.  And Brad is tenacious in this regard.  

Nate’s lips are wet.  He’s kneading Brad’s ass.  He’s almost never without _the look_ recently.  Brad’s perpetually half-hard as a result.  It’s hard to think of it as a problem.

“Come here.”  Nate captures Brad’s mouth again.  

An extremely good, probably overdue idea occurs to Brad mid-kiss.  Beer lubrication ensures that he uses full volume to make his point crystal clear.

“We’re going upstairs and getting you on my ass.”

Nate squeezes a handful of the ass in point.  “Who’s in charge around here?” he chides, but Brad can plainly feel Nate’s dick against his thigh.  

“I’m offering up my ass for your use.  Clearly this fits status quo, sir.”

Within thirty seconds, Nate has Brad’s face in the hotel sheets, door slammed behind them.  He’s nothing if not efficient.  Brad respects the fuck out of that.  

Nate bites the meat of his ass through his jeans.  

"Fuck!"

“Did I hurt you?”  

He hadn’t and he knows it.  Goddamn tease.

Then long fingers are under him, undoing button and zipper.  Nate pushes a thumb hard against the back seam of Brad’s Levis.

“What can I do?”  There are always ROEs.  

Brad looks back, cheek against the bed.  “Just get your fingers on me.  Like before.”

Nate tears his eyes away from where he’s still massaging Brad’s asshole through the denim.  “I can do one better.”

Before Brad can ask what that means in this context, Nate yanks at his waistband, dragging it below his ass, down to his thighs.  And then a spit-slick thumb is pressing across Brad’s hole, skin to skin.

He can’t hold in his groan.  The sound comes from south of his diaphragm.  Nate’s thumb feels like it’s rubbing him from ass to throat.  

He’s kissing him on the swell of his hip.  Closer, nipping.  A flush races across Brad’s skin.  Nate exhales slow and damp across Brad’s hole.  Suddenly it’s clear what “one better” means.  

Brad’s cock pulses hard.  “Fuck yes.  Do it.”

Nate replies by licking long across Brad’s hole.  Brad contracts.  His skin is too hot, too small.  His head buzzes.  

Nate licks again.  Brad is momentarily open before clenching shut.

“Let me in,” Nate chuckles.  “You dragged me out of Gunny’s wedding reception for this.”

“I did,” Brad says against the pillow.  He closes his eyes and tries to make his body relax.  “Didn’t hear any complaints.”

The pointed jab of Nate’s tongue retorts.

Brad is getting fucked.  He’s never been fucked with anything more than Nate’s first finger, and now he’s got a tongue flicking into his asshole.  He rocks back into it, and Nate hums his approval.  His hands hold Brad’s cheeks apart.  Brad slips onto Nate’s tongue.  He feels the fine ridges of his tastebuds, or imagines he does in the buzz of the moment.  He wonders what he looks like, half dressed and ass-high on a hotel bed.  Desperate, probably, and -- shit -- he _is_.  Brad really fucking needs this, he wants it.  He never needed this with anyone else.  Never even occurred to him before to let someone do this to him.  But he wants to know -- _needs_ to know -- what tears Nate apart with pleasure when Brad’s on the giving end.

“Finger,” Nate warns.

Brad already feels a mile wide.  Nate licks and pushes, steady.  He spits and pushes again.  Licks around his finger as it dips inside him.  

“Second knuckle.”  Status report.

They’re in a porn flick behind his eyelids: Nate’s tongue red.  Brad’s hole a matching color, wet and shiny from spit.  Nate’s finger fucking into him until Brad yells.

Here, now, Nate’s finger slides all the way out.  Brad feels a mix of relief and annoyance.  Then his finger's back.  

“All in.”  

“Yes,” Brad hisses.  And this is true relief, he realizes, letting himself take Nate like this.  

Nate fucks his hole over and over.  In, out.  Brad bites the rumpled covers.  His cock dangles between his thighs, bouncing against his jeans and then hardening enough to slap his stomach when he tenses.

Brad leans into Nate’s touch, irrationally wishing he could widen his opening until Nate’s whole arm slides inside.  Nate presses down firmly, and Brad cries out.  Weird pain-pleasure jolts through him.

“Do-- fuck, do that again.  What the fuck are you doing?”

Brad knows what Nate’s doing.  He’s done this to Nate to get the same reaction.  Nate looks frankly beautiful when Brad does this.  He wonders what Nate sees right now.

Nate’s tongue dives into Brad’s ass again, replacing his finger.  He can glide in now.  Brad’s looser.  Nate flattens his tongue and the stretch is so good.  He spits, and Brad imagines it dripping down into his opening.

The exquisite pressure is back with Nate’s finger driving into him.  His finger and tongue are making pleasure flare deep within Brad’s groin.  Nate begs to be fucked when Brad does this.  But Brad never knew it would feel like this, heat and vibration and openness.  The feeling is _immense_.

“Take another,” Nate rasps.  His voice cracks.  “You can take it.”  

Brad whimpers against the bed, imagining Nate’s dick shiny with precome, ignored in his pants while Nate works Brad open.  Brad wants that cock inside him.  He understands now.  He gets it.  He’ll beg if he has to.

Nate pushes in another finger like it's nothing.  Two fingers, that’s the about the width of a cock.  Brad throbs, so open.  He arches his back and swings his hips into Nate’s thrusts.  He scrabbles for a hold on his dick.

“Fuck!  Fuck!  Gonna come!”

 

**4.**

 

Nate looks at him across the table.  It's an appraising face.  He puts down his knife and fork.  

“I want to put my cock in you tonight,” Nate says, matter of fact.

Brad’s hole clenches.  A hot, shivering wave passes through him.  Nate’s eyes burn right through him.

“And you couldn’t wait to tell me this until we’re somewhere else?”  Brad white-knuckle grips his silverware.  His pants are too tight.  He wants this.

Nate raises his brows.  “I could have.”

“You, sir, are a fucker,” Brad says low.  

“I aspire to be,” he smirks.  Fucking Ivy League smart-assery.  Brad’s too far gone on Nate to be annoyed.

Brad holds his hand up to signal the waitress.  “Check!”

Brad’s ass has been worked open so many times by Nate’s hand and mouth that _virgin_ is a misnomer.  He’s come from tongue.  He’s come with anything from half to three fingers shoved in him.  But it is entirely different when a cock is balls deep in your hole.  Call it old fashioned.  Cut a hole in the goddamn sheet, because Brad is ready to lose his virginity.

Five miles on a motorcycle does not calm Brad’s demeanor.  Nate’s cock is fully hard against his ass the whole time.  Brad’s makes a visible wet spot on his jeans by the time they pull into the garage.  

Brad yanks off his helmet.  “Never doubt the levels of self control I possess.  I scoped at least four places we could have stopped between here and there.”

“You want me to fuck you in the bushes?”  Nate hangs his helmet on the tail of the bike.  

“As long as there’s slick and privacy, I could not give less of a fuck on location.”

“Romantic,” Nate smiles.  He slides into Brad’s personal space and hits the garage door button, lowering it before the neighbors learn Brad’s religion.

“You know me.  Buy me a fancy dinner, and I’ll put out.”

Nate laughs.  Brad loves when he can make Nate laugh.  It erodes away the shit they dealt with in Iraq, grain by grain.  It comes easier now that they’re a few months out of action.  Breathing is easier even with Nate’s looming departure on the horizon.  Finally feels like there’s something other than monotony out there in the future.

Brad has softened to half-mast.  Nate too by the feel of it.  His face is buried at the side of Brad’s neck.  He’s inhaling, softly mouthing at Brad’s jawline.  Hell if Brad knows when this turned into something other than simple respect, when it transformed into friendship and late night jerk-off fantasies.  It’s way past that now.  

Brad smiles.  Tonight is the night he loses the last vestiges of his ass virginity.

The timer on the garage door’s light finally runs out.  Nate grinds against Brad’s groin in the dark.  

“Since we’re home,” Nate puts a hand on the swell of Brad’s ass when he calls Brad’s house _home_ , “We might as well make use of the equipment at hand.”

Brad does not need more prompting.  He toes his boots off inside the door.  Jacket is shed somewhere near the coat hook.  Clothes drop en route to the bed.  Call it privileges of home ownership.  

By the time the mattress dips when Nate climbs on, Brad already has one of his own fingers slicked up, sliding it over his hole, pushing lube inside to the first knuckle.  

Brad looks back, finger still moving inside himself.  Nate’s watching him work with _that look_.  

“I woke up dreaming about this, Brad.  You sure?”

“Do I look like I’m having doubts?”  Brad needs this.  He wants the feeling of being stretched around Nate.  He not only can take it, but he fucking _requires_ it.

“You do not look like you’re having doubts,” Nate smiles.  Nate’s fingers rub around Brad’s rim.  The lube bottle snicks open.  Cold smears over Brad’s opening, and then Nate’s finger slips in alongside Brad’s.

Brad’s eyes close with the feeling.  He lets Nate take over with the better angle.  Two in, moving slowly.  This is tactical finger fucking.  

“Touch yourself,” Nate orders.

Brad’s hand is already slick.  He pulls and then stops, pulls again and then stops.  He’s too close for more than that.  But it eases the way.  Fingers curl inside him.  Nate presses with intent.  

“God, fuck,” Brad gasps.  His body has the urge to crawl away from the intensity of it.  Instead, he leans back into Nate’s touch.  Brad’s thumb slides through a droplet on the head of his cock.  

The bottle snicks open again.  Another drop of cool lubricant.  

“One more,” Nate says.  

And then the third is pushing into him.  

“Slow, slow.”  Brad aches with the stretch.  It’s good, but he needs a second.  It’ll pass.  He pulls on his cock.  “Ok.”

Nate goes deeper, past the first knuckles.  He waits for Brad’s hole to spasm and relax.  His hand starts its motion.  Three fingers tapering down to a blunt point, widening out to a cock’s width.  “Fuck.  I love when you do this to me,” Nate whispers.  

Brad loves it when Nate swears.  He yanks his hand up, licks down the vee of his thumb and fingers and then jerks himself hard.  His ass clenches around Nate’s fingers, pushing them out and then readmitting them greedily.  Pleasure roars through him.  He stops his hand.  “Goddamn it.”  

Nate’s fingers fill him, pressing and spreading.  The sounds are unholy.  Wet, slick, slapping noises.  

Brad’s going to come.  He lets go of his dick and thinks of Afghani winter, anything.  “Now.  Come on.”

Nate’s fingers recede.  The bottle snicks open, and then Nate’s pushing in.

“Brad, I’m so unbelievably in--” Nate begins.

But Brad is clenching, grunting, coating the sheets below his belly, bellowing, “Fuck, Nate, fuck!”

Just the tip, but this is no technicality.  Brad is no longer an ass virgin.  He grins into the sheet.

 

**5.**

 

The UPS guy hands over the box.  It’s plain.  No identifying return address.  Nothing incriminating.  Brad has it torn open as soon as the door’s shut.  

Inside, red and intimidatingly large, is the plug.

He strips below the waist and jerks himself hard on the bed.  He bites a mouthful of Nate’s running shorts while he slicks up.

First a finger.  Then two.  Then the blunt push of the plug.

“Shit,” Brad gasps around the taste of Nate’s sweat.  He pulls it out, pushes the tip back in while rubbing the underside of his cock with a slick fist.  Out again, in a little deeper.  The stretch is huge.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Brad gasps.  Deeper, and then pop.

It’s seated.  Fucking turret never came, but sex toys can be here next day.  Clearly the free market economy is doing shit correctly.  

Brad tries to catch his breath, maintain his heartrate at something reasonable.  He wipes his hands on Nate’s shorts.  Nate’ll be home in twenty.  Gives him time to stretch wide.  Maybe he’s seen one too many videos of guys getting reamed at top velocity, but he fucking wants that.  Brad wants Nate to pound him into the bed until he can’t form words.

Beneath him, he feels around the base of the plug.  Inside, the fullness is enough to make him impatient.  He gives an experimental pull on his dick, and pleasure rockets down his spine.  He clenches hard around the rubber.  

“Holy shit,” he says to the empty room, surprised at the intensity.  “What the fuck.”  He unclenches his fist from Nate’s shorts and breathes deeply.  

The first time Nate fucked him, Brad came in one second, maybe two.  That is not tonight’s plan.  Brad wants Nate to fill him up, finger him through his refractory period, and fuck him again with his jizz slicking the way.  He wants to throw the sheets out afterward.  He wants to jerk off to this memory for decades.    

Brad puts one of his heels under his ass and rocks back onto it.  The plug changes angle, pushing forward.  It punches the air out of him.  

“God,” he mouths.  He rocks the plug on his heel, grinding it into his prostate. He spits in his hand and grips the head of his cock.  He just has time to grab Nate’s shorts to catch his orgasm.  

He’s ready.  Brad is so fucking ready.

Nate walks in to find Brad pantsless and getting a glass of water in the kitchen.  If the neighbors glanced over and waved at them through the window, they’d be none the wiser.  

“Hello there,” Nate finally says.  “Plans for tonight?”

“In fact,” and Brad leans over the sink to give Nate a full view.  

Nate drops his International Relations book with a loud slap against the wood floor.  “Looks like I have plans too.”

“Ready when you are,” Brad grins.

Nate unzips right there in their kitchen.  The plug had the desired effect on him too.  He’s already hard, cock standing out of the fly of his pants.  Button-front shirt, ironed trousers, conservatively clipped hair, and _that look_.  

“Shirt off,” Nate says.  

And then Brad is completely naked, leaning there waiting to be fucked by this man.  Nate is the only possible one.

Brad hangs onto the edge of the sink while Nate slips the plug out.  He wets three fingers and slides them in, testing the stretch.  He presses down with a wicked grin.

“How many should we try to get out of you tonight?”

“Aim high, sir,” Brad replies.  Any other sarcasm is cut short by Nate seating his cock fully in Brad’s hole in one smooth push.

Nate’s hands grab his hips and give a hard thrust.  

Brad’s lips form a silent “ooh.”  It’s good.  Brad grinds onto Nate’s dick.

Nate snaps his hips again.  “Yeah,” he says.  He reaches down to loosen his trousers further, freeing his balls.  The next snap of his hips is met with a resounding slap of flesh on flesh.  

“Fuck.  Do it.  Fuck me.”

Every thrust has Nate’s balls slapping against Brad’s perineum, against his balls.  Every downstroke has the crown of Nate’s cock sliding over Brad’s prostate.  Nate is breathing hard, his air is warm and damp on Brad’s back.  Nate coming quietly undone is the best part of this.  His grip gets tighter, his rhythm falters and then is back on cadence.  

Brad reaches down and fists himself.  The impacts of Nate’s thrusts fuck Brad’s cock into his hand.  This won’t last long.    

He comes into a kitchen towel, full to the root.

Forty minutes later, he’s damp, sticky with Nate’s come down his thighs, and Nate’s got him face down on their mattress.  He’s standing high above him, driving him down into the bed with every thrust.  Brad isn’t sure if he’s still moaning.  All he is is the singular pleasure of this fucking.  All he needs is for Nate to keep pounding into him like this forever.  He’s wide and loose.  Slick and jizz are making every thrust loud and wet.  His cock is ignored between his legs; he’s not even sure if he’s hard.  

Ah!  There it is.  The tingling flare starts building inside him.  His whole lower body is a part of it, not just his dick.  Everything sizzles.  Nate is grunting “come on, come on” to the pace of his ruthless thrusts.  It’s taking him over, consuming him, his orgasm is all he is, this thing that Nate is giving him.  Brad’s cock spurts onto their sheets, over and over, pulse after pulse, until Brad is completely dry.

Nate sighs and comes too with a shudder.  They collapse together.

“Ugh,” Brad manages.  He’s laying in an hour worth of cooling come and sweat.  

Nate snorts.  Brad flops over to look at him.  He's so loose-limbed he almost couldn’t execute the maneuver.  Nate outright laughs.  Brad does too, thinking $19.99 was a great price for that plug.  Five fucking stars.  Expedited shipping had been an excellent investment.

“Tomorrow’s my turn,” Nate says.  He kisses Brad softly with a look on his face that conveys a whole different kind of intent.  


End file.
